Locksmith
by DreamBrother
Summary: A secret skill of Don Eppes.


**Title:**Locksmith

**Author:**DreamBrother

**Summary: **A secret skill of Don Eppes.

**Disclaimer: **Perhaps, in an alternative universe, where Einstein would be a dodo, Fred Astaire would be a clumsy oaf and Chris Cornell couldn't hold a tune to save his life… they would be mine.

**Author's Note**: Pretty silly, but I had to get it out of my head (you'd be surprised to know what's in there). Bear with my idiosyncrasies. Idiotic title, I know, but I'm too sleepy to come up a more appropriate one.

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**Locksmith**

Amita Ramanujan stood outside the closed door of Charlie's office, her head bent as she rummaged through the contents of her backpack, clearly looking for something.

''Hey, Amita. Why are you waiting outside? Is Charlie busy with a student or something?'

Amita looked up as she heard the voice, a smile lighting up her face as she recognized the form of her boyfriend's brother.

''Hey, Don. Actually, Charlie is busy with a lot of students. He's just about to finish up a lecture he's giving in one of the classrooms. He told me to wait inside his office but I can't remember where I've kept my copy of his office key. It's probably at home,'' replied Amita. As she said this, she continued her interrupted search. After a few seconds, she gave up and said ''Yeah, definitely don't have the key on me. It looks like we'll both have to wait outside till he comes.''

''What? And miss playing darts till he comes? No way. I think I'll take the third option,'' stated Don.

''And what exactly is the third option? I don't think Charlie would appreciate it if you kicked his door open,'' Amita replied, her smile spreading into a grin.

''We FBI agents are capable of less drastic measures, we'll have you know. Can you keep a secret?''

''Depends. Do I want to know the secret?''

''Only one way to find out,'' Don quickly looked to one end of the hallway, then the other, as though checking to see if anybody was watching before crouching down in front of his brother's office door, at eye level with the lock. Amita looked on with curiosity as Don pulled out a small, thin wallet from the inside of his coat pocket, barely a few inches long and an inch wide, and taking from it two slim metal rods. Amita laughed incredulously as she recognized what Don was up to:

''You're going to pick the lock? Are you serious? An FBI agent doing something illegal? Where'd you learn how to do this?'' asked Amita, the questions pouring from her mouth.

''If I said I learnt this as a teenager, would you believe me?'' inquired Don as he placed the two pieces of metal inside the lock and began working away.

''No, I don't think I would. The FBI isn't exactly in the habit of taking on juvenile delinquents, last time I checked,'' replied Amita, shaking her head.

''That's only if you get caught. How about if I told you it's a gift? All the lessons I needed were given by the wonder that is television'' countered Don.

''And lock picking tools are available everywhere, all you have to do is ask? Good one. Come on, tell me, where does a federal agent learn how to pick locks?'' insisted Amita.

''If I told you that, I would have to kill you,'' grinned Don, smiling in triumph as the lock clicked and he turned the knob and held the door open for Amita.

''You know, you and Charlie really are brothers,'' said Amita, shaking her head and she walked by Don and into the office.

''Oh yeah, and what makes you say that? Other than the obvious answer, of course,'' asked Don, curiously. Most people couldn't believe he and Charlie were brothers, including his old man hunting buddy Coop, who had taught him this particular skill.

''You gave me the same answer Charlie did when I asked him how he knew so much about assassins and their work, when he worked with you on a case last year,'' answered Amita.

''My brother, Charlie, man of mystery,'' grinned Don.

''Man of mystery? How's that, may I know?'' Don and Amita looked in the direction of this new voice, turning their heads just in time to see Charlie walk in and put his backpack down by the door. Without waiting for an answer he asked, '' How'd you guys get in, anyway? I could have sworn I locked the door, and I have your copy of the key, Amita, remember I borrowed it last week when I forgot my own?'' holding up the key in question.

''Um..,'' began Amita but couldn't come up with a believable cover story fast enough, and looked to Don for help who quickly jumped in.

''There's more than one way to open a door, buddy''

''Oh yeah, which one did you use? My door is still intact so you didn't kick it in, that's for sure'' replied Charlie, more than a little bit curious.

''Again with the assumption that's all we Feds know how to do. You have your secrets, Chuck, I have mine,'' Don's smile widening as he saw his brother rolls his eyes at the hated nickname.

''Cleary. And don't call me Chuck. Don't worry, I'll figure it out sooner or later.'' As soon as I have Amita alone, Charlie thought.

''We'll neither confirm nor deny whatever you come up with. Right, Amita?'' said Don, correctly guessing that Charlie would try to squeeze the information out of his girlfriend as soon as he had an opportunity.

''Right,'' confirmed Amita, laughing as she saw Charlie look back and forth between his girlfriend and brother, clearly knowing that they were up to something.

''Co-conspirators, huh? Don, stop being such a bad influence on my girlfriend,'' protested Charlie.

''Don't worry, Chuckie, I'm not any worse of an influence on her than you might be,'' grinned Don.

''Don't call me Chuckie,''

''How about Chuckles?'' asked Don, epitome of innocence as his eyes lit up with mischief, his diversion clearly working. His secret was safe for now.

''No!''

''Chucklet?''

''NO!''

The End

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Needed to get this over and done with so it would leave me in peace. Not my best work, but hopefully it won't put you off any of my oter fics too much.

And yes, I do know the proper meaning of the term Locksmith. But if i put the title as Lockpick, it would kinda give the game away too soon. Sorry :)


End file.
